The *****'s Evil Heart

The word 'mother' fills me with blood ripping rage as the wells of disgust fill me at the thought of the word mother and the sound of it repulses me. I detest the raw instinct of the word, yet I am raw to the bone, bleeding with passion and fury.

The woman, that stupid ***** has for the majority of my life has ensured that I feel as low as she thinks girls and women are supposed to feel. ******* Indians and their daughter degrading culture. This woman has a more insidious approach of doing so. She will buy me things, cook and clean, but the thing is, nothing she has done for me is from a genuine love, more out of guilt. Guilt that she does not love me as much as her sons. To her girls are a burden.She doesn't buy things for her sons, but she does not have to. There is love for them Her mind is trapped with the belief that girls and women are dirty, a stain on the fabric of society. Girls and women are supposed to cook for the men.

That *****, despite her thinking, is not one of the women who would happily cook for the family. Her food was always tasteless beyond comparison. I said thank you for each meal, much to the mockery of one of my brothers, for not having his idea of higher standards, but while I knew, I wanted to extend my thanks to the person who cooked the meal, regardless of how bland or crappy it was, except for the one time when even I told her the food was disgusting. She thinks of shortcuts. If I cook, I tend to think of the longer option, with home made stock etc. I hate cooking but I still ensure that my cooking will have things in it to contribute to the health of those who eat the meal. I am not a better person and in many ways I am worse I think. I don't beat my kids, but I am struggling daily with them. I am a freelance writer and in this house, there is no respect for me. I am the loser, the waste of life, just because I work from home. Her idea of writing is based on novel writing. She thinks that writers release novels and that all other means of writing do not constitute writing, but wasting time.

I knew despite her buying things for me, that she did not love me the way she wanted. It was the energy of her that beckoned me to her dislike that bonded us, without creating a bond. I knew it even though others could not see it. They saw her as the good person, with a child that needed to be disciplined. I was always mouthy and never had an ounce of respect for her and I am so thankful for that. The only form of respect I had for her was based on her having life and that alone was the reason that I have not tried to reverse that fact. I have thought about drenching my hands with her blood several times, but I do not want the consequences of that action. I would also not be able to tolerate the sins of her burdened blood staining my hands. I would never go to jail for her as it would be the final straw that would see her smile.

For most of my childhood I had irked her ire and stoked the fire. She derived a pleasure from beating me and then my brothers. She loved to beat us, almost like it offered her cathartic release from the rage within. Yes as much as she loved my brothers, she beat them too, but for her, she remembers the pain of what she did to them, but not what she did to me. I should be grateful for all the toys I had. I didn't want toys as much. I loved books. I had books wall to wall though and toys.

She doesn't remember hitting me over the head, drawing blood. I did not get medical attention that night. She does not remember beating and punching me when I was three, as I had smeared baby oil all over everything. She loved a clean house and never let us feel that we were good kids. She allowed others to discipline us, by telling them how bad we were. I could never control my mouth and somehow it was held against me as the adults who believed children should respect their elders tried to bully me into submission. I was strong willed and very mouthy. She did not deserve my respect. If I could have, I would have smashed her into a wall, and watch her bones melt into her brain.

My dad, was a bad husband, to the world who did not see her provoking him into beating her. Yes he hit her, but in this case, for this time, I will say she deserved each occasion. I stuck for her though, thinking she is a girl like me, so I should. I fought my dad for beating her. I fought him physically. My dad was not a saint. He thinks the woman should not argue with the man. Well I argued back. We have a better relationship.

Over the years that *****, that curse who should have been aborted or miscarried or one of the daughters that Indians love to expose to the elements in the act of female infanticide, has taken a pleasure in my suffering at the hands of violence. Then the sickening ***** has the gall to state that the crimes of another parent, similar to hers is wrong. She smirks at my rage, after she has provoked me into it. She has tried to tell me that I am insane. They both have tried to each time I brought up the fact that they were abusive, as I grew up. A few years back, she told me she would put me in mental hospital, due to the fact that I was working on a novel at the time. I am still drafting it before I let it flutter from my open hands. It is done, but not quite.

I can still remember the energetic shift when I was four. The first of her sons was born when I was three. He was sitting up on a high chair and splattered his tomatoes on the floor. The energy seemed to lift and radiate with light and she did not throw a fit. She radiated along with it. I remember trying to love him, but somehow my heart could not allow it.

Now, her hatred for all things women has revealed itself in the fact that she has confined me to the outside washing machine for one reason. I wash my sanitary napkins as I use the cloth washable ones. I mean it is natural, so what is so dirty about it? She told me I dirtied the main washing machine. So tell me, what is so dirty about using a cloth sanitary napkin?

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3 Responses Dec 22, 2012

Hi, (^_^)/ please do not compare your mother to such atrocities, she is a human, fortunately or unfortunately she is the closest you will ever come to true love or god. think about it, maybe she was brought up to think of herself as a slave and maybe has not experienced anything that would make her feel otherwise, you know better but she does not, she probably thinks she is worth nothing, she is much to be pitied and love rather than disgusted upon, for her to treat you in such a manner shows what respect she has of herself in her own eyes, and for her to hate herself so much she herself must have suffered overwhelmingly, she does not know any better because probably she never saw anything better, as humans we believe in only what we have seen since our childhood, so think about it, inspite of all your sufferings maybe she is not to blame it is her upbringing and maybe her lack of a knowledge of a better life.

well then her need to stereotype girls must have some kind of background, no person who understands life and the people in it could ever stereotype anyone. But you do not have a choice she is your mother and in this world she is the person who gave life to you and you are obligated to love her not matter what she does to you in a way she is your god and she owns you you can not deny that.

I'm sorry about how your family dynamics worked out & I agree with you on this one: if they weren't prepared to have a girl then why at all try to conceive.

Also the essence of Hindu tradition is to treat girls like representation of Goddesses; what turned out at your family is unfortunately a twisted & hypocritical version that suited the vast majority in the subcontinent but that's another topic.

Wow, an insight into a culture, I had no idea, I realize some may be personality and personal demons, but still. Are you Hindi or Muslim?

Makes me wonder what your mom's childhood was like. I have had some Indian students, and I noticed the difference in how they refered to thier wives, some I invited to my home. It is interesting the difference in culture, land ownership, family relationships, and housing. A really insightful writing, thank you for sharing. Did I make a mistake on Hindi and Hindu?

Now that you said it, I remember Hindi is a language. It has been over 25 years since I taught those classes. Could be on the camera, between camera, film and processing, pictures were an expensive proposition then, I figure your folks be be a little younger than me, but not much, maybe mid 50's. Was it the typical arranged marriage or did they meet and marry? All of the guys I met were in arranged marriages, the parents held interviews to select the brides and the son's were introduced once the selection was made. In one guys case, he was excited to get back home, his parents had made a selection for him. Never thought how it looked from the womans side, knowing she was not going to have a home of her own, would not be able to create her own process for the family but would have to follow the mother, and move in with the new in-laws.
You make it sound like your still at home in this text, are you?

I too am a mutt, a mixture of geneology, nice to meet you, thanks for all the writing. It has made for an interesting morning for me.

:-), we are all a hodgepodge anymore, travel has gotten so easy.
In your cultural situation, you will probably get a chuckle from my current situation. My wife has been traveling since October of 2010. Our kids are grown, our obligations have been met, our life is ours once again. She was laid off in December of 08 10 days before Christmas, she got a 6 month severance package which paid her full wage for that period, she was hurt she was laid off. She was out of work 8 days when another division of her company found she had been laid off, called and offered her a job, and she was still able to keep her severance package. A few months later, the lady who was the company trouble shooter for Finance problems decided to retire, they advertised her job and Susie wanted to apply, it would mean a lot of travel, but it was an acknowledgment of her as a professional in her field. We talked, she explained why, I said I would support what ever she wanted to do and me and the cats (we had 6 when she started, we are down to 5, her favorite was 22 years old when she passed away) would be fine we could take care of ourselves while she was gone. Her hopes for travel has not materialized, but professionally she is one of he most sought after people in her company. We talked, and she is tired of being away from home, and had put in her paperwork to retire in February of this year, when her paperwork came back it said June. She was unhappy with this, but called a few hours later, she had had a conference call with her boss, his boss and the corporate comptroller, wanting to know what they could do to get her to stay. Now she is in a dither again :-), on one hand she wants to come home, on the other, the attention knowing she is the best at what she does in a company of thousands, she is the one they fear most of losing.
I get a few comments on having her gone and me living here alone waiting for her return, even the kids are bewildered. My son is the only one to ask and I told him “When two people marry, you are putting two lives into one, we don't abandon our dreams, they are subjugated by our responsibility to the family. We no longer have that requirement on us, she has dreams she wishes to fulfill, I can understand, I loved the job I had before retirement and we are in a position she can pursue hers”. Our professional fulfillment is just not something we can get from our relationship no matter how much we love each other. Anyhow, I think the son understands, my dad understands, I have one brother-in-law who I may choke for his mouth. All in all, I guess I will have to wait to June, she should have made up her mind to stay or go. I know she sure misses the grand kids, and I tease her with my time with them and the things we do. I am lonely, even with everyone around, 5 cats, 30 cows and 500 hundred acres to farm, I miss her and wish she were home, but I will never demand it of her, she did not of me when roles were reversed.

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